


Monologues from Honolulu Heights: Nina

by undeadstoryteller



Series: Monologues from Honolulu Heights [1]
Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 09:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undeadstoryteller/pseuds/undeadstoryteller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nina reflects on her life, monologue-style.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monologues from Honolulu Heights: Nina

My mother? God, where do I start? She was cold… to be kind. She had anger issues. She was violent. I never knew why she hated me. I mean, I know I wasn't part of her plan; I wasn't part of the life she wanted. But it wasn't my fault she'd kept me. I used to dream about being sent away to a new, different family. A different mother who would be happy when I came through the door after school.

I remember when I was a little girl, sometimes I would see a family at the park or at the market, and I would fantasize about being in that family. The fantasy would last for days, sometimes weeks. And then, eventually, their faces would fade and I'd find a new family. I'd draw pictures of the house, the pets, our wonderful family holidays. As long as I was with them, I was happy. But it never lasted long.

Then, when I was twelve, I got sick. Very, very sick. They didn't think I would make it, though I didn't know that until later. I was in hospital for six months, and had five surgeries. My mother hated hospitals, and hardly ever visited me. It was _wonderful_.

I had a nurse named Cathy, my favorite of all of my nurses, though I loved them all. Cathy was beautiful, and caring, and smart. Whenever I asked questions – and I asked _lots_ – she was always happy to explain everything. I didn't know how one person could know so much about medicine and oxygen and heart monitors. And I knew, I wanted to be Cathy when I grew up.

After about four months, Cathy was transferred to a big hospital in London. For the rest of my stay, my mother didn't visit me once. Cathy did. Five times.

When I started my schooling, I learned quickly that paediatrics was… not really my area. I was crushed, really, all I had wanted to do since I was twelve was to be a paediatric nurse, to do for other children what Cathy had done for me. I went to see Cathy in London, feeling lost and defeated. She said all kinds of patients need caring nurses, not just children. Of course it was true, but I felt so _married_ to the idea of paediatric nursing.

But you know, I found out that I'm really good with old people. Which is kind of strange, because I never even knew an old person until my nursing studies. I never knew my grandparents, never even had an elderly neighbor.

Anyway, I never did reconcile with my mother. Or… concile? Is that a word? When she died, I really didn't feel anything. At her funeral, my Aunt Trixie gave me some old pictures of my mother, young and happy. She was like a different person. I wondered if she had been like me once. Let me tell you, that's a very scary thought. I threw the pictures into the bin at the funeral home. I didn't even take them with me. I thought it would be like letting her go completely, but it's never that easy, is it?

Now that I'm pregnant, I think about my mother every day. Sometimes I just feel… enraged. Believe me, if you knew my friends you'd know that it's justified most of the time, but it scares me. But then I look at my friends and I think, family is what you make it. It's not about biology. I didn't follow my mother in life. I followed Nurse Catherine Cresselly. And maybe I'm not cut out for paediatrics. I can still be the mother I never had.


End file.
